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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914122">The Steak Fic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Decapitation, Deepthroating, Dom George, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Necrophilia, Not Beta Read, Porn With Plot, Smut, Sub Dream, Torture, Wound Fucking, implied serial killer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:14:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29914122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"George sat comfortably in a mahogany chair, shoulders relaxed, his hand gripping a fork gently. Cheeks flushed, sight focused on the plate in front of him. Steak, medium rare. Well spiced, several herbs vaguely noticeable in each bite. Very much delectable. He nibbled on it, chewing thoroughly, absorbing the texture and aroma. He really outdid himself this time. "</p><p>Or the author tried to make themself feel sick (and failed!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Steak Fic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First try at writing something like this. Don't like it, don't read! If DTeam wants this to go down, it goes down, pronto. Writing style is kind of wacky as I don't write often + English isn't my first language.</p><p>I sincerely hope you don't enjoy this, holy fuck.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George sat comfortably in a mahogany chair, shoulders relaxed, his hand gripping a fork gently. Cheeks flushed, sight focused on the plate in front of him. Steak, medium rare. Well spiced, several herbs vaguely noticeable in each bite. Very much delectable. He nibbled on it, chewing thoroughly, absorbing the texture and aroma. He really outdid himself this time.</p><p>Looking up, he saw his date sitting across the table, staring dully at him, barely having touched his own meal. Dirty blonde locks falling on his forehead, freckles decorating his face. Eyelids half closed, eyes focused directly on George. An embodiment of true beauty. A living, walking piece of art. George wanted to paint him; immortalize him. Analyze every wrinkle of his skin, every square inch of his body. Let him dry and feel the texture of the canvas under his fingers. He was beautiful.</p><p>Feeling rather woozy, all Dream could do was look into George’s eyes. How they glimmered in the dim candlelight, how they sparkled. He could barely register his surroundings, his attention solely focused on George. His eyes seemed like they opened a portal to a whole new dimension, and Dream wanted to let himself be dragged into it. Let himself drown in him. His scent, his touch, his warmth. He wanted to feel the sensation of his lips pressing against his neck.</p><p>He didn’t usually drink and it showed. He was barely through his first glass of wine. The same wine he bought and brought to George as a gift specifically for the occasion. One glass of it. One glass, and he already felt tipsy.</p><p>His attention was averted when he felt his hand being brushed over, touch tingly and warm. “Is there something on my face?” George said lightheartedly, voice low and smooth like butterscotch cream. He was visibly amused, smiling softly. He squeezed Dream’s hand reassuringly, then pulled it up to his cheek and leaned against it, reveling in how cold it felt against his hot skin.</p><p>Dream blushed, not being used to being the one getting hit on. Still very much dazed, all he could muster up in response was a dumb chuckle and a smile back. He caressed George’s face with his thumb. Skin soft, velvet-like in touch. Everything seemed so surreal in the moment. His head getting heavy, loud ringing deafening the room. Only George and him, him and George until the end of time. It was so perfect. Dream wouldn’t want It any other way.</p><p> </p><p>Just him and George.</p><p> </p><p>And George, and him</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>and George and</p><p> </p><p>George stood up from his chair, seeing Dream was about to pass out. Worried look on his face, he walked around the table. “Hey, hey. Dream? Are you okay?” Dream stared at him again, eyed half closed and unfocused.</p><p>“You’re beautiful, George, so b-…”</p><p>His head hit the table with a bang.</p><p>Wavy, dirty blond locks submerged in the honey-mustard sauce. The medium rare, well spiced steak burning his forehead.</p><p>Feeble arms wrapped around him. Warm, loving embrace.</p><p>He felt himself being pulled out of the mahogany chair.</p><p>Then, it all went dark.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Black, cold. Hard, heavy.</p><p> </p><p>Heavy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Heavy chains held him down. Chains wrapping around his hands and ankles. Chains restraining his movement, trapping him in whatever space he had.</p><p>His head was spinning, like he was coming down from the worst hangover he’s ever had. Stomach burning, nausea hitting him.</p><p>He was laying on something hard. Hard, cold. Presumably metal. A steel plate.</p><p>He opened his eyes, quickly realizing the room he was in was pitch black. The draft was cold against his skin. Naked. God, he was naked. He tried pulling on the chains to hopefully loosen them, but it was futile.</p><p>Too tight, painful to pull.</p><p>Soon, panic started to set in. The weight of the situation slowly becoming more and more apparent. There was no escape, none that he could think of. With nothing to see<br/>
and nowhere to go, the only thing he could really do was listen. Listen and think, and hope. Hope this was all an awful, disgusting prank.</p><p>A silent clacking could be heard. Click clack, click clack down the hall. Footsteps. Dream froze, turning his head to the source of the noise. Underneath what he assumed to be a door, a light could be seen approaching. Then, the door opened. A shady figure walked down the stairs, still obscured by the darkness, made even more fuzzy by Dream’s eyes slowly adapting to the sudden change in brightness.</p><p>The figure with the light approached him.</p><p>The figure spoke.</p><p> </p><p>Voice low. Smooth. Smooth like butterscotch cream.</p><p>“Sleep well?”</p><p>George.</p><p>George was standing directly above him, their noses inches away. Smile plastered across his face, soft and reassuring.</p><p>Flabbergasted, Dream chuckled awkwardly. Looking the man straight into the eyes, he spoke, quiet and confused. “Wh-aha.. What is this?” He chuckled again. “Where are we, George?”</p><p>The man slowly pulled his face away, standing up straight. He walked a couple of steps positioning himself at the end of the table where Dream’s legs were chained. He flipped a switch, and with a silent click, a bright light illuminated the entirety of Dream’s body. Dream was blinded, but one thing was very clear to him now. He was exposed.</p><p>Naked where George could see.</p><p>It felt disgusting.</p><p>“Where we are-“ George spoke, kneeling down to the level of the metal plate, reaching under it and adjusting something. “-is for me to know, and for you to find out.” He finished with a breathy giggle.</p><p><br/>
The metal plate moved and Dream was now forced into a sitting position. George got out from under the contraption and smiled sweetly at Dream.</p><p><br/>
Even in questionable circumstances he looked beautiful. Eyes closed, eyelids wrinkled. Cheeks flushed, rosy. The faint freckles sprinkled all over them. He was dressed in what seemed to be a cooking apron. Plain, white. Lace sewn around the perimeter. Rubber gloves on his dainty hands, white. He looked pure as ever, ethereal. Angelic, looming above Dream. The bright light above them crowning him.</p><p>A halo.</p><p>He was so beautiful. It began to get infuriating.</p><p>Trying to keep his cool the best he could in a situation like this, Dream looked at George pleadingly. “George… What’s the meaning of this? Why am I chained to a table like I’m the subject of a satanic sacrifice? And for god’s sake, why am I naked?” He asked, brows furrowed. There was no need to panic, right? This has got to be a joke, right? Or maybe George is extra kinky? Right? He had no reason to worry.</p><p>George looked him straight in the eyes and with a laugh, placed himself on top of Dream’s splayed out thighs, his chest pressing flush against Dream’s, the fact he isn’t wearing any underwear beneath the apron becoming awfully apparent. He was hard. Dream felt George’s cock digging into his stomach.</p><p>“Oh, Dream…” George laughed mockingly. “I don’t need to explain anything to you.” He leaned his face close to Dream’s. Eyes dark, fierce. “All you should know, is that tonight we’re having fun.” The gap between them now closed, George brushing his lips against Dream’s. Dream quickly reciprocated, biting George’s lower lip. George moaned. He kissed harder into Dream’s mouth, letting his tongue slip in. Placing his gloved hands on Dream’s chest, he began feeling his muscles, brushing up and down his skin before finally letting one of his hands drop down below Dream’s navel and grip his now half-hard dick.</p><p>Oh, Dream could definitely get into this.</p><p>He tried humping his hips into George’s hand with whatever limited movement he had. George helped him, letting his thumb brush against Dream's slit, spreading the precum on the tip. Soon George started to pump his hand at his own accord, their movements synchronizing harmoniously.</p><p>He pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, still jerking Dream off. He moved himself down to rest above Dream’s knees, trailing his tongue down his body on the way. When fully comfortable in the new position, he bent down, looking Dream dead in the eyes as he took the entirety of his cock into his mouth.</p><p>“God, George.. You’re so hot.” Dream whimpered, reveling in the warm, welcoming sensation of George’s mouth. His tongue going up and down his shaft, the tip of Dream’s dick hitting the back of his throat, the way he sucked him in. George bobbed his head rhythmically, putting in all of effort to make Dream climax.</p><p>And climax he did, at record speed. George sucked him through it as cum shot down his throat. The feeling of the warm, salty liquid sliding down his esophagus was almost orgasmic on it’s own. He swallowed, but didn’t move his head away.</p><p>Dream was coming down his high with George’s lips still wrapped around him. Confused, he opened his mouth to ask about why he wouldn’t pull away.</p><p>But all that came out was a shriek.</p><p>A scream echoing off the walls of the room.</p><p>His eyes shut tight, jaw clenched. Tears beginning to form. Ears ringing.</p><p>Blood. Gushing out.</p><p>His penis coming detached.</p><p>George bit his dick off.- He let it slide out of his mouth, blood and cum running down his chin. He coughed, wiping his face off with his apron. A sweet smile decorating his face again. Reassuring. A smile Dream could barely even see through his tears. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, this hurts. A pain he’s never felt before. Shooting up and down his spine. Pulsating. Disorienting.</p><p>A buzzing sound filled the room and the metal plates lowered Dream into a laying position again. Dream could barely comprehend what was going on. Adrenaline flew through his system making it hard to breathe. “WHAT THE FUCK?” he yelled through the tears. His thoughts incoherent, he was uncapable of forming a sentence. All he knew is he was left dickless and in agonizing pain. George giggled at his struggle.</p><p><br/>
Fucking giggled.</p><p> </p><p>“Trust me, you’re not going to need this where you’re going.” He held the detached penis in his gloved hands, fidgeting with it. He smirked to himself, putting the thing away on a tray he must’ve taken from under the table. “You’ve had your fun.” Voice low. “Now I’ll have mine.” Smooth.</p><p>Smooth.</p><p>The smooth rubber of George’s gloves rubbed Dream’s chest as he lay plastered on the metal-plated table. A gentle touch. Reassuring.</p><p>Then a sharp pain as George stabbed into him, right below his ribs with what seemed to be a kitchen knife. Puncturing his skin and muscle, pushing the knife down to his navel. Ripping everything in its path. Cutting him open like swine.</p><p>Dream screamed again. He used all his energy to scream.</p><p>He screamed as George forced his tissues and muscle open. He begged and begged and begged him to stop. He begged for forgiveness, not being entirely sure what he’s done. He screamed as George forced his hand into the open, gaping wound. </p><p>Fun.</p><p>Was this fun?</p><p>He screamed as George started gutting him alive, pulling out his intestines and dropping them down to the floor, into something Dream couldn’t see, but assumed was a bowl. He cried in his helplessness, watching himself being emptied.</p><p>He screamed and screamed and screamed. Screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore. All he could do now was observe George working. Smiling to himself. Humming. Having fun. Dream felt himself shake all over, getting cold. Eyes barely open, George was all he could see. All he could focus on. His entire world. The beginning and the end.</p><p>White apron now smeared and soaked with cum and blood. Gloves unrecognizable, red. Cheeks flushed. Faint freckles. Lips curved upwards covered with a slick layer of crimson liquid.</p><p>Dainty hands inside of him. Dainty hands pulling out his kidney.</p><p>The squelching sounds. The humming.</p><p>Reassuring. Serene.</p><p>He could no longer feel the pain as he watched George. Beautiful. Angelic. Fading out of his vision.</p><p> </p><p>Beautiful.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So beautiful.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dream was beautiful as he was slipping out of the realm of the living. The light in his eyes going out. George left him hollow, both metaphorically and literally. Of that, he was proud. He was finishing up his work, putting away the last of Dream’s insides into the large plastic bowl.</p><p>He took his small handsaw and started to take care of Dream’s head. Using all his power to push into the flesh. Sawing through the skin, larynx, muscle, vertebrae.</p><p>Cracking, squelching. </p><p>A small fountain of blood.</p><p> </p><p>Once sawed off, he picked up the head. It looked perfect. He has been waiting for this moment all evening, cock rock hard with anticipation. He examined the openings. looking for one large enough to penetrate and settled for the aorta. He stuck his finger in, contemplating. It was pretty well preserved and went fairly deep. Good enough.</p><p>George lined up his dick with the opening of the blood vessel, pushing the head down onto his shaft. It was still warm. The blood made it easy to slide in, and once George bottomed out, he took one last look at Dream’s face before fucking mercilessly into his neck. He was beautiful and so, so tight. So fucking hot. Squeezing around him like the useless fuck-toy pile of meat George reduced him to. It was perfect.</p><p>He slid his cock in and out, the wet, squelching sounds making him even more aroused. He hit the base of the skull which sent him over the edge as he filled Dream’s hole with hot, steaming cum.</p><p>He panted. He’s done so much work tonight already and didn’t really feel like cleaning up. He'd much fuck every orifice Dream’s body had to offer until he was passed out from exertion.</p><p>He sighed. It had to be done. He didn’t want the meat to go bad now, did he? Coming down from his high, he left the basement. He grabbed all the tools he needed; bags, a meat grinder, knifes of various shapes and sizes and a gas mask. He discarded of the apron and rubber gloves. He took a shower to rid himself of all the sweat, cum and blood. Then, after putting on actual clothes, he headed back down to the basement.</p><p>Turning on the ceiling light he looked down on the mess he’s made. He sighed, coming down the stairs and into the room. He approached the metal-plated table and picked up the handsaw discarded on the concrete floor next to it. He undid the chains holding the body down to the table and started to saw it down into more manageable pieces.</p><p>Separating the flesh from the bone, he carefully placed it into plastic baggies, each labeled accordingly and ready to go to the freezer. It was a tiresome task, but definitely necessary to get the most out of the body.</p><p>Once done with the meat, he took the bowl of guts, digging through it to find the edible pieces. The heart, liver, lungs, kidneys went to the freezer along with the flesh. The rest was made into ground meat and thrown out to get eaten by animals.</p><p>Then it was time to deal with the truly valuable parts. The head and the penis. George carefully cleaned the head, washing out the cum and blood, leaving the skin clean and pristine. Then, he washed the penis, still bloodied from being bitten off. After making the parts presentable, he placed them in two glass jars and having put on a gas mask, submerged them in formaldehyde.</p><p>The two jars were then placed on a shelf mounted to the basement wall.</p><p>His art.</p><p>A splendid start to a collection.</p><p>Now Dream was truly immortalized. His beauty preserved forever, like a painting. His skin will never wrinkle, his body will never deteriorate. Every part of him will serve someone, whether it be George, or the world. Every atom that used to build his form recycled. His death was given meaning. It’s almost poetic in a way. Funny.</p><p>George smiled to himself. Satisfied with his work, he started the tedious process of cleaning everything up.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>George sat comfortably in his mahogany chair, nibbling down on a steak. Medium rare, well spiced. Truly his best one yet, he thought.</p><p>Looking up from his plate, he notices his date sitting across the table, staring at him dully.</p><p>“Is there something on my face, Sapnap?”</p>
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